Chicken Soup For the Sick Boyfriend
by Atreyl
Summary: Mello's sick, without pants, and too prideful to stay in bed. And if Matt keeps making him soup while shirtless, Mello might just decide to never get better.


**Chicken Soup For the Sick Boyfriend**

Mello was terrifying.

Known for his short temper and genius mind(to think up of pranks with, of course), all the orphans avoided contact with him as much as possible. And even though this did give quite the boost to Mello's pride, he was a people-person and simply couldn't stand to be by himself for most of the time.

So there was Matt for that.

Honestly, it was as if the redhead had been made especially for him. Matt was laidback and easygoing. He listened to Mello's rants and aided the blond in his pranks to torment Near, getting roped in with the trouble as well. As long as he had his games, he was alright.

One peaceful morning in Wammy's orphanage, the orphans were eating breakfast, minding their own business.

Now, what's wrong with that sentence?

A morning at Wammy's was never peaceful. By breakfast, Mello would have terrorized at least five orphans by now, done something to Near, and raided the kitchen for chocolate. Yet, there were no audible screams of fright throughout the orphanage, and this kept the orphans on edge.

Where was Mello? And his ever-obedient friend, Matt? Where were the screams of agony?

Questions swam in the orphans' minds as they timidly ate various brands of cereal.

Then, it came. The moment of truth, the climax of the story.

Mello stormed in, face bright red(especially his nose), clad in nothing but an oversized black shirt and presumably underwear beneath. There was a round of collective gasps in the cafeteria, at the same time Matt came running after Mello, wearing only striped boxers.

"Mello!" the redheaded boy whined. "You haf'ta stay in our room!"

"You can't make me!" Mello screamed back, leaping over a table and away from Matt.

Matt followed suit, finally cornering Mello and firmly wrapping his arms around the chocoholic's waist. "Ow!" Matt yelped when Mello elbowed his ribs.

"Ew, let go, Matt!" Mello wailed. "You're _shirtless_!" (Though secretly, the eleven year old enjoyed this particular position.)

Matt kept holding on until Mello finally ripped free, starting to run for the exit.

"But you're sick!" Matt said loudly.

Another bout of collective gasps. Mello turned around stiffly, and you could almost see steam coming out of his ears.

All of the orphans screamed simultaneously, running out of the cafeteria and thus abandoning their cereals. Even Near calmly filed out, knowing there would be a fight between the two Ms, and he'd have to get Roger and the nurse for Matt.

Meanwhile, Matt was having trouble not running out along with the others. He knew he was the only one who could come as close to taming Mello. "Mel," he said, using his nickname, "you need to rest. No more screaming, 'kay?" He mustered all of his ten-year-old wisdom into that sentence.

Mello opened his mouth to protest, only to sneeze. The sudden action made him stumble backwards and fall.

"Mello!" Matt was immediately at his side, a bare arm around Mello's soldier and holding him close. "C'mon, let's get you seated, yeah?" Matt helped Mello to his feet and over to the nearest table. He got Mello to sit down, who just limply sat there with his head buried in the crook of his elbow. Worried, Matt watched him for a second, before realizing Mello had to be cold(he wasn't wearing any pants, for god's sake). So Matt quickly ran out of the cafeteria, up a floor, into their room, found Mello some pants, and ran back down into the cafeteria.

"M-Mello?" he touched the blond's shoulder tentatively. Mello roused and slowly got to his feet, leaning heavily on Matt.

"I'm really tired, Matty," he said in an exhausted voice. Clearly, their chase from before had worn him out.

"I know, Mello. I-I'll make you something warm, alright?" Matt said. "You have to get into these first, though." He held up Mello's black pants, a little embarrassed.

Mello slowly nodded his comprehension, slipping the cotton garment up his legs. He returned in his seat, half-smiling up at Matt. "Can I have some chicken soup?" He yawned.

Stunned by the sudden change, Matt managed to nod. "Y-yeah, sure." He retreated into the kitchen, finding that the lunch ladies had dashed out of the room also. The corners of his lips twitched up into a smile; no kitchen ladies meant no one to make the soup for him, meaning _he _had to cook. And although Matt would never admit it, he enjoyed cooking, as his mother used to. He only knew one recipe by heart, which was his mother's traditional chicken soup. She used to make it for him when he got sick.

Matt shoved his goggles to the top of his head, knowing they'd only fog with steam. And for the next twenty minutes, Matt cooked, unaware he was being watched by Mello.

Outside, Mello smiled when he saw Matt bustling around in the kitchen, still shirtless. It was a weird sight, but Mello had come to love that concentrated look on Matt's face whenever he was focused on something. Only once during the cooking session, Matt apparently burned his finger, because the redhead sucked his pointer finger into his mouth, making a face at the pot of soup. Mello felt himself smile wider.

Soon, Matt came back out, balancing a bowl of chicken soup and a spoon. The aroma reached Mello, who inhaled the delicious scent. He couldn't wait, so the moment the soup touched the table and the spoon was within reach, Mello scooped up a spoonful of the soup and brought it to his mouth.

He recoiled, dropping the spoon back down with a clatter, whimpering slightly at his burning tongue.

Across from him, Matt sat up, eyes widened. "Mello, I thought you were a genius!" He shook his head, a smile threatening to play on his mouth. He lifted another spoonful of soup to his own lips, lightly blowing. Then, he lifted it to Mello's mouth.

For a moment, Mello just sat there, staring at his friend, too close for comfort. He could clearly see every outline of Matt's unusually long eyelashes, could see the irises in deep blue eyes, could see those tempting lips just a few inches away...

Mello opened his mouth, allowing Matt to deliver the spoon in. Mello swallowed the soup, only wincing a little at the warmth as it traveled down his throat. But it wasn't as hot as the first spoonful.

And so it continued. Matt fed Mello the chicken soup, until the bowl was empty. For a minute or so, Matt just stared at Mello. He was still kneeling on the chair, leaning over the table, and the position was painful to his bare stomach but he didn't move.

Finally, Mello cleared his throat and said, "Get over here, dumbass, otherwise _you'll_ get a cold," he said.

Matt grinned, walking around the table to sit next to his best friend, who wrapped his arms around his own bare ones. The cotton was warmer than he'd thought, instantly shooing away the coolness that had settled on Matt's uncovered limbs.

"You know you look stupid with those striped boxers and those stupid goggles," Mello observed.

Matt giggled, nuzzling deeper into Mello's stomach. "Warm Mello," he cooed.

Mello's face heated up and he grumbled, "Yeah, and I wonder why I'm letting you steal my body heat. Now stop pushing yourself into me so much, you'll get a cold too."

"If I do," Matt said, slowly looking up at Mello with innocent, curious eyes, "will you make me chicken soup, too?" His tone was hopeful.

"No," Mello bit out. He continued silently, _I'd do so much more._


End file.
